


Affirmation of Love

by christophspowerstance



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Body Image, Bromance, Gen, Richard is an asshole be warned, Self Confidence Issues, Tummy kisses, let guys say I Love You to each other 2k18, this is basically just an exploration of Paul and Christoph's bromance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 18:51:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16023875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christophspowerstance/pseuds/christophspowerstance
Summary: The band meets for a costume fitting for their upcoming tour. Richard causes an unnecessary dispute about Paul's revealing stage outfit. Christoph, being a good friend, comforts Paul during the aftermath.





	Affirmation of Love

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based [on](https://78.media.tumblr.com/d89e70a3adf8f725ad3e5a6dfb3bc83d/tumblr_pf88zdSw9h1wc1vwso1_1280.jpg) [these](https://78.media.tumblr.com/72f8b78cdace76d05d461410f60051ea/tumblr_pf88zdSw9h1wc1vwso2_1280.jpg) [pictures](https://78.media.tumblr.com/469c8c886a27481169c8511190b1a870/tumblr_pf88zdSw9h1wc1vwso3_1280.jpg) from 2013, back when Paul was ultimate chumby'n'cute. 
> 
> [Brig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrestzelle/pseuds/Arrestzelle/) was being a real sweetheart and, once again, put up with my crap and beta-read this. Thank you for your patience and corrections, bb, ilysm!! ♡♡♡

“Do you really want to wear that on stage, Paul?”  

Confused, Paul stops tying his shoelaces to look up at Richard. Brows curiously raised, he flatly replies, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Richard turns around from where he eyed Paul through the reflection of a large mirror. He vaguely gestures in his direction, a slightly discomfited expression on his face.

“I mean, that outfit is very revealing.”

Paul looks down at himself. He’s wearing a dark pair of typical German lederhosen, reaching down to his knees. Rugged buckles sit against his bare torso, connected through a horizontal strip of leather, complimented by the symbol of Rammstein in the center. Save for his boots, he doesn’t wear anything else.

Christoph catches Flake shooting Richard a raised eyebrow, before refocusing on taking off his eye-straining, sparkly suit. Averting his gaze, Christoph now watches Richard, too. He has a feeling he knows where this is going to lead.

“It is, that’s why I picked it in the first place,” Paul finally answers Richard, sporting his ever-so-present bright smile, “What’s wrong with it?”

Richard, obviously annoyed that Paul isn’t understanding, crosses his arms and shrugs, bluntly saying, “You’ve gained quite a bit weight.”

Everyone, even Till, stops in his tracks to look at Richard. A moment of awkward silence passes, until Richard raises his voice again.

“And that outfit is showing it!”

Christoph can feel the tension building in the room. While Flake and Oliver both have an incredulous look on their faces, Till seems to be fed up with Richard’s bitchiness; Christoph sees the angry wrinkle developing between his eyebrows. It somehow looks odd, considering that he’s currently wearing a furry, pink coat that makes his shoulders look abnormally wide.

Paul huffs a nervous laugh.

“So what?”

“I can see your belly rolls.”

Richard purses his lips, still sizing up Paul. He doesn’t seem to care if he’s being inappropriate with pointing it out. Of course, Christoph has noticed that Paul got a bit chubbier, but he would never tell it to his face. It’s rude behavior he doesn’t appreciate. Apparently, Till doesn’t, either. Tilting his head back, he squints at Richard, “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean, Richard?”

Turning around to face Till, Richard spreads his arms out in silent question, aggression blatant in that gesture.

Christoph sighs and runs a hand down his face. He really doesn’t want this to blow up, not before the tour has even started, and decides to assist Till. He clears his throat and speaks up calmly.

“Richard, we’re not having that here. Do you _really_ want to dictate what Paul should wear? We’re all adults and can make our own decisions.”

Richard darts his eyes over to stare coldly at Christoph. He has a challenging look on his face and Christoph knows what that means: Richard won’t stop acting like a bitch, at least not until he wins the argument. He snaps at him with a jerk of his hand.

“Oh sure, Schneider, I’m being such an asshole here. How rude of me to be concerned about my friend! How rude of me that I don’t want him to look bad on stage!”

Sarcasm thick in his voice, Richard rolls his eyes at Christoph. Returning his stare, Christoph responds in a stern tone, “How you did it is not the way to go and you _know_ that.”

Huffing a dry laugh, Richard puts his hands on his hips as he shakes his head. Continuing with his sarcasm, he simply says, “I’m sorry for stating my opinion.”

“Telling someone they’ve gained weight isn’t an opinion, Richard.”

Till breaks into the conversation, making Richard turn back to him with an annoyed groan. Before he can say anything though, Paul raises his voice, sounding confused, “Hey guys, it’s okay, we don’t need to—“

Interrupting him, Richard throws his hands in the air, growling, “You all hold something against me, don’t you!”

Flake just ducks his head, avoiding the conflict by leaving the room, like he usually does. Oliver remains silent, too, for he isn’t a man of many words. But he radiates a calming atmosphere—Christoph appreciates that he lingers.  

Till speaks up again, his voice now softer, obviously trying to appease Richard, “We just don’t want any disputes before we even go on tour. We’ll have plenty of time to get into fights when we’re constantly hanging around together.”

“Oh sure,” Richard immediately snaps, “because _I’m_ always the one starting fights.”

 Till’s face hardens, jaw tensing up when he says in a low voice, “That is not what I said.”

Christoph can sense the situation is getting out of hand. It’s never a good sign when even Till’s words don’t seem to get through to Richard, so Christoph decides to put an end to this discussion by standing up. Before he can speak up though, he’s interrupted by Paul.

“Can we _stop_ this please?”

Despite standing in the center of the ring and being the unintentional root of the problem, no one heeded his protests or acknowledged his presence. Until now. His voice firm and eyes unusually hard, he shoots everyone a serious, piercing look, before he goes on.

“I can speak for myself, thank you. It’s _my_ decision to wear whatever I choose. There wasn’t even a discussion _needed_ to begin with, I don’t know why you all got so wound up over this simple little thing.”

Sharply exhaling through his nose, Paul raises a hand to scratch at his goatee, wrinkling his nose and pushing his chin upwards while doing so, frustrated.

Everyone fell silent and watches Paul with uncertainty, quiet tension lingering between them.

Paul lets both of his hands slide into the pockets of his lederhosen. Pressing his lips together, he accentuates the apples of his cheeks, while simultaneously making the best double chin he can manage. He’s obviously making himself look silly on purpose, to ease the tension. He bends down slightly at the knees, and then stands up straight again, grinning, back to being his goofy self.

“Guess I’ll get fewer crazy fans following me around. Quite a benefit if you ask me.”

Beaming around at the circle of his bandmates, he waits for someone to crack a laugh, but the only one to react at all is Christoph, whose face softens with a slight smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Grimacing, Paul throws his hands in the air, exasperated.

“Oh, come on, guys,” Paul chides, stepping up between Richard and Till to rest a hand on their respective shoulders, before gently nudging them and smiling, “Don’t be so stuffy, it’s forgiven and forgotten.”

He arches up onto his toes to quickly press a kiss to first Till’s, and then Richard’s cheek. He makes sure that both of them nod in agreement, before pacing around Richard to stand in front of the mirror. Feet placed apart, the knuckles of his fists proudly meeting his naked sides, he looks himself up and down, before the typical Landers-grin spreads across his face.

It has Christoph silently sighing in relief, a fond smile growing. Paul has always been good at de-escalating heated discussions just by using his charm and wit.

Finally, Till disengages from his position to reach out and firmly pat Paul on the chest, stating with a crooked smile, “You look fierce.”

Then he steps aside to the corner of the dressing room, where his different costumes are all sorted on a hanging rack, including his casual clothing. Without further ado, he begins to strip himself to change out of his potential stage costume for the upcoming tour.

Glancing over, Christoph catches Richard staring at him. Surprisingly, Christoph finds a decent amount of embarrassment and regret in Richard’s green eyes. With a tilt of his head in Paul’s direction, Christoph wordlessly calls for him to apologize to Paul. Relaxation replaces the tension that had been straining him, when Richard actually turns to speak to Paul without hesitation.

That was a near miss.

Withdrawing his attention from the exchanged apology, Christoph flops back down on the couch. He hears Ollie leaving the room and decides to call it a day. Languidly, he peels his stage costume off himself. This is going to be even _more fun_ after the shows, when he’s sweating; the chain top will mercilessly cling to his upper body as he struggles to get it off of himself, of course.

 

After changing, he decides to leave Paul and Richard to themselves. Christoph departs, with Till silently walking by his side. The whole band decided to book hotel rooms for the night, so they can meet up tomorrow morning to have breakfast together and talk about organizational matters.

The walk to the hotel is short and neither Till nor Christoph feel the need to talk. They simply share it in content silence. After exchanging their goodnights they both disappear into their respective rooms.

Switching on the light, Christoph closes the door behind himself and runs a hand down his face. He’s tired. Debating if he should go straight to bed or get himself a drink to round off the day, he paces through the neatly tidied up hotel room to open a window, allowing the chill night air into the room. He throws a glance at the clock; it’s not even 10 P.M. A snort escapes his throat. He’s really growing old.

Christoph pointedly opens the mini fridge of the hotel room and grabs the small bottle of champagne, murmuring lowly to himself, “Fuck aging.”

Once he has the alcohol opened and poured into a glass, he makes himself comfortable by throwing on sweatpants and a hoodie. Slumping on the bed, he turns on the TV. Considering it’s Tuesday evening, the channels don’t quite offer a wide range of interesting shows. Eventually, he gets stuck on some talk show featuring “celebrities” he never even once heard the name of. It doesn’t take long for him to doze off.

 

A firm knock to his door has him jolting up. A look to the clock tells him that merely half an hour passed since he melted into the hotel bed. Groaning, he gets up and idly makes his way to the door to open it.

Paul’s face greets him with a wide grin, and before Christoph could say anything, the smaller man shuffles past him.

Christoph clears his throat, a puzzled look lingering on his face, “You do know you have an own hotel room booked, right?”

Paul turns around to beam at him and shrugs, saying, “Sure, but I didn’t want to sleep yet and figured it’d be fun to pay you a visit.”

Slowly closing the door, Christoph runs his fingers through his haphazard locks. He watches Paul jump onto his bed and build a pile of pillows and blankets, before plopping down into it and wiggling his shoulders to find a comfortable position.

Rubbing at his eye, Christoph mutters, “What do you want to do, Paul?”

“Talking,” Paul answers, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “We haven’t talked in ages.”

Christoph just nods. Paul’s right. After all, they haven’t seen each other for approximately eight months.

“Alright, hold on, I’ll get us a beer.”

A minute later, after retrieving the beer from the fridge and popping off the caps, Christoph joins Paul on the bed, handing him the cold beer. He extends his own towards him, offering to clink bottles. Happily, Paul does so with a satisfying tap of glass against glass, before taking a long drink.  Grabbing the remote, Christoph turns down the volume of the TV for the sake of talking without interruption. With a dubiously raised eyebrow, Paul’s gaze lingers on the TV screen for a few seconds, before he asks, “What the hell were you watching, Schneider?”

Waving him off, Christoph mutters something along the lines of “bored” and “no other options”, eliciting a snicker from Paul. Awkwardly, Christoph quickly calls Paul’s attention to another topic by asking him about his son, “So, is Emil still happy with his acting career?”

Immediately, Paul’s eyes seem to develop a tenderness that makes Christoph smile. Paul loves his family, and he loves talking about them, thus, unsurprisingly, he breaks out into a passionate monologue about what his son is doing, where he’s living now, what Paul thinks of his friends. Before Christoph can reply with hardly a single word, Paul goes on with telling him about his daughter; how she’s doing really well at school, how he’s so proud of her, and Paul’s whole presence just radiates so much love and happiness. Silently, Christoph listens to his friend’s babbling, softly smiling to himself and occasionally taking a sip from his beer.

Paul winds up his flood of words, saying, “I don’t even know what I did at the age of twelve, let alone what I _wanted_ to do when growing up, but Lilly is so passionate and energetic, I admire that.”

With an ironic smile, Christoph responds, “I wonder where she got that from.”

Paul’s grin grows even wider and has his crow’s feet appearing, making his eyes look radiant and joyful. He lightly punches Christoph on the biceps, before raising his bottle to his lips and taking a drink.

“How’s Ulrike doing?”

Obviously, it’s Christoph’s turn now to talk about his (soon-to-be) family. Settling back against the headboard of the hotel bed, Christoph takes another pull on the bottle, before setting it down on the nightstand. He slips his hands into the pouch of his hoodie.

“She’s doing okay. Pregnancy puts a lot of strain on her body and I wish I could do more for her. She hates not being able to do sports anymore, but otherwise she’s more or less free from pain. We had a doctor’s appointment last week, just a check-up, and everything’s fine with our little kicker.”

Christoph fails to repress the attached smile forming on his lips. Even if he’d tried, he couldn’t describe the feeling of knowing that he will have a child soon. It’s making him oddly emotional, and he swears he can feel his heart warming up, just by thinking about holding his son in his arms. It still seems so surreal to him, he can’t grasp the thought of actually having a baby.

A soft, understanding smile spreads on Paul’s lips. He affectionately places a hand on Christoph’s thigh.

“I’m relieved and equally happy to hear that, Schneider. I know how you feel, I’ve been there twice.”

Winking at him, Paul gently squeezes his thigh before withdrawing his hand and emptying his beer with a last, long gulp.

Christoph watches him and notices his eyes becoming distant, and his face changing to another expression. Out of a sudden, he looks… Sad. Worried, Christoph furrows his brow, but before he could ask, Paul already begins to talk.

“Schneider, can I ask you a question? Can you be honest?”

His voice is quiet and he avoids meeting Christoph’s concerned gaze. His jaw is slightly clenched, his eyes downcast to watch his hands fiddling in his lap. This behavior is so unlike Paul, it has Christoph’s protective instinct kicking in immediately. He responds calmly, “Of course, Paul.”

Paul hesitates, entangling his fingers and nervously biting his lower lip, before murmuring, “You know, Richard apologized and we’re good again, and I _know_ I shouldn’t let his words get to me, but…”

Looking up, Paul fixes his gaze on Christoph’s.

 “Do you think I’m too fat?”

Bewildered, Christoph is completely speechless for a second. Paul never expressed self-consciousness to him before; _he_ usually is the one to brighten up a person’s day. Dumbfounded, Christoph blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind, his expression utterly serious, “What the fuck, Paul, no, you’re not fat!”

Sighing, Paul licks his lips, muttering, “But I’ve gained quite a few extra pounds.”

Christoph looks at him, puzzled. Paul’s mood changed so rapidly and his friend looks seriously depressed. It makes Christoph’s heart clench, so he tries to cheer him up by awkwardly grinning, “We all have extra pounds, we’re _old_ , Paul.”  

A poorly timed laugh escaped his throat, considering Paul doesn’t seem to be amused at all. Instead, he just scowls at Christoph, making him wipe the stupid grin off his face.

In an earnest tone of voice, Christoph firmly looks Paul in the eye and says, “For real. Paul, listen to me. You’re perfectly fine the way you are, and I sincerely mean that. You look great and the lederhosen looks just as fine on you as it did some years ago.”

Christoph watches Paul closely while talking and is relieved to notice the corners of his lips lifting, even if almost not noticeably. He doesn’t respond, but Christoph can see Paul’s cheeks flushing a soft pink. Though Christoph knows the topic’s not off the table yet.

Paul sighing and dropping his gaze confirms that. With his bottom lip slightly jutted out, he lifts a hand to poke his index finger into his belly, watching with a frustrated expression on his boyish face.

Christoph frowns. He hates to see Paul unhappy. Simply out of spontaneity, he suddenly gets on his knees and grabs Paul’s hips, easily manhandling him. He pulls him down from his pile of pillows for his back to meet the bed, drawing a surprised squeak out of the smaller man. Being caught off guard, Paul instinctively grabs onto Christoph’s wrists, exclaiming a confused, high-pitched “Schneider, what—"

With a silly grin on his lips, Christoph pushes up Paul’s black sweatshirt, exposing his tummy, and receiving a gasp from Paul. Before he could intervene though, Christoph quickly leans down and buries his face in Paul’s soft stomach, planting a broad kiss right to the center, above his belly button. Knowing Paul is ticklish, Christoph is fast to sit back on his heels, for his own safety. He loves Paul, but he still doesn’t want to get hit in the head with his sharp elbow.

A joyous expression on his face, Christoph states flatly, “I love your extra pounds and so does everyone else, even grumpy Richard.”

He’s pleased to find Paul laughing, even if he still seems rather bewildered by Christoph’s uncharacteristically impulsive action. Christoph decides to take it a step further. Paul, in the meantime, braces himself on his elbows, watching Christoph with a doubtful, but simultaneously amused look. Getting up from the bed to grab his phone, a juvenile grin spreads on Christoph’s face.

 “I can ask him!”

Paul cracks a laugh at that, chuckling while waving Christoph off.

“Schneider, you’re being ridiculous.”

Grinning widely, Christoph simply responds, “Am I?”

Following Christoph, Paul moves to get off the bed, stepping up to him to snatch his phone out of his hand. He carelessly throws it onto the bed, before pulling Christoph into a hug, much to his surprise.

Christoph’s grin fades to a loving smile while he draws his arms around Paul, holding him close. Paul, smiling himself, buries his face in Christoph’s shoulder, murmuring against the thick fabric of Christoph’s hoodie, “Thank you for making me laugh. I love you.”

Christoph’s smile grows. Lowering his head, he presses a tender kiss to Paul’s hair.

“I love you, too.”

For a few seconds, they remain like that; arms wound around each other, sharing a tight hug in comfortable silence. Paul is the first to draw back, giving Christoph a smile, nearly back to his happy, jaunty self.

Suddenly, a strident beeping breaks the peace of the moment. Obviously, it stems from Paul’s phone. Reaching into the pocket of his black pants, Paul pulls out his phone to take a look at it, his eyes scanning the screen.

Looking back up at Christoph, Paul reproachfully raises an eyebrow.

“What a coincidence.”

Without saying another word, Paul lifts his phone for Christoph to read the message.

_Text Message_  
_Received: Tuesday, 11:34 P.M._  
_From: Richard_  
_I just wanted to let you know that I really am fucking sorry for what happened earlier. I’m a jerk. I wasn’t trying to drag you down or anything, I guess I’m just a bitch sometimes. I love you, Paul._

Breaking into laughter, Christoph defensively raises both of his hands.

“I _swear_ that wasn’t arranged!”

A wry grin spreads on Paul’s lips. He nods ironically, before nudging Christoph on the shoulder, musing, “Sure thing.”

Still laughing, Christoph reaches out to ruffle Paul’s hair.

“See, I told you. Everyone loves you.”

Smiling, Paul rolls his eyes at Christoph, and then directs his attention to responding to Richard’s heartfelt text.

**Author's Note:**

> [wiener-blut.tumblr.com](https://wiener-blut.tumblr.com/)


End file.
